


Forgive My Past Mistakes, And Learn To Love Me As I Am

by bug_from_space



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Babies, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kidnapping, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Sebastian doesn't die, and raised by Ragnor, he is deaged, shadowhunters mentioned, spider demons, texts, title may change, total and complete au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9594962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bug_from_space/pseuds/bug_from_space
Summary: He had been known as a feared menace to the world once. People whispered the name Sebastian Morgenstern. Now though, there is a home, and a loving father, and a chance at something better.or how Ragnor Fell ended up adopting a baby shadowhunter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is going to be a series of ongoing drabbles, and moments in the life of Ragnor and his adopted son, Daniel, who had once been Sebastian.  
> The AU is a team effort between me and @eloquated over at Tumblr. I hope you enjoy!

Once, he had been a terror, the man known as Sebastian Morganstern. But even a Nephilim imbued with the blood of demon was not invulnerable, and eventually, Sebastian, as most ambitious, cruel men did.. Angered the wrong people.  
Their punishment was creative. And merciful.  
At least, for Sebastian. Ragnor was less sure. But then, they weren’t the ones who had been saddled with a very small, blonde child. In fact, the warlock had frequently thought, the favour he had owed to Everett had certainly not been equal to this!  
And so, the man once known as Sebastian, as Jonathan, was now Daniel. Named for the prophet who had survived two death sentences, it had seemed ironically apt.  
Ragnor wasn’t sure if the nightmares that plagued the one year old were simple baby fears, or some remnants of his life bleeding up through the forgetfulness of restored youth. But it was a second chance at a better life, and so Ragnor, for the fifth time in as many nights, exhaustedly cradled the sobbing baby against his chest.  
And paced endless circuits around the nursery. “It was just a dream, calm yourself.” He said quietly, shifting the slowly quieting baby against his shoulder, and rubbing a warm hand against the shivering little back. His small, duck-printed onesie feeling clammy to the touch.  
“Calm down, and we’ll get you changed, and back to bed.” It didn’t matter what he said, but the sound of his voice, even rough with sleeplessness, seemed to soothe the fretful child. Stifling a yawn, Ragnor smoothing a hand over his pale blonde hair, “You see? It was just a dream. I’m right here.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had all started when Sebastian, when Daniel, was two. It had been the juice in the right cup, always the blue one. In his food that couldn’t touch. The sweater that he wore until it began to unravel, and the shoes that he swore pinched his toes, even though they were obviously too big.  
Ragnor had thought that it was just him being a toddler, and that of course, he would grow out of it.   
But then it was the lights he had to turn off three times before Daniel would go to sleep. The sequence of looking under the bed.. in the closet… behind the dresser. In that order.   
Like any parent, Ragnor tried to wean him off his rituals; and realized, almost immediately, that with the absence of those comforting habits, the nightmares came. They would wake him in the middle of the night, Daniel’s screams echoing through the house, high and shrill and terrified of the dark.  
They had all hoped that Sebastian’s second chance would be without the fears of his first life…  
But some wounds leave deep scars.


	3. Chapter 3

Ragnor was working.  
He was working through the first insistent call of “Daddy?” and “Daddy?”. He was still working as the voice of his 8 year old got louder, and closer, and he didn’t need to look to know that Daniel was walking down the hallway, still calling to get his attention.  
If he waited, he knew from experience, his son would be very happy to come to him. And it would let him, hopefully, have enough time to finish the paper he was trying to grade.  
“Dad!”  
This time Ragnor did look up, his chair creaking slightly as he turned to eye the boy in the doorway, his mop of fair, almost white hair falling in baby-fine wisps around his face. “Daniel.” He said mildly, rising to his feet.  
“I have something to show you.” Said his son proudly, and Ragnor resigned himself to not getting that page finished after all. It was, he had begun to reconcile himself to, a side effect of having a child. How inconvenient.  
The living room looked like it had been dismantled by a small army of children. Or one very dedicated one. Every blanket and pillow in their house had been press ganged into fort service, and the leaning, wobbling structure still looked fit to topple over at any moment. With a tight, almost bemused smile, Ragnor let his son pull him under the shelter (and if he used a little, subtle magic to make sure it wouldn’t fall on their heads? Well, Daniel didn’t need to know.)  
“See? See?” Daniel asked, kneeling under an old, plaid blanket that Ragnor was sure had been on a high shelf in the linen closet (and was he climbing shelves again? Damn.)  
“I see.” Ragnor confirmed, trying to make himself comfortable. An effort made easier when Daniel folded into his lap, gangly legs thrown over one side, and snuggled into his chest, “I see, Daniel.. It’s a very good fort.”  
Maybe they could wait a few minutes to take it down. Just a few.


	4. Chapter 4

_I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young_  
I'll be good, I'll be good  
For all of the light that I shut out  
For all of the innocent things that I've doubt  
For all of the bruises that I've caused and the tears __

__When Daniel is a child it wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up screaming. Everyone always figured he might grow out of it, the further he grew away from his past life. He didn’t, if anything the nightmares almost became worse, the memories lingering even in his waking hours. When he’s 9, he asks his father about the nightmares; dreams filled with a boy with black eyes and fire. The boy in his dreams; Sebastian, is a monster, someone who seems to take pleasure in others pain._ _

__Sometimes, Daniel can forget about the nightmares, spending more time paying attention to his studies, along with spending time with his father. He’s 13 when he asks who the Sebastian is, or was. It wouldn’t matter so much, but it had been the same person in his dreams or years. The same angry, hateful person year after year._ _

__It would be easier to ignore the dreams, Daniel thinks, if the Sebastian didn’t look exactly like him. After a certain point he takes it as a warning, about what he’s not entirely sure; but he tries to act in a way that makes his dad proud. He studies hard, is polite, everything he can to try and distance himself from Sebastian. He is daniel Fell, not Sebastian Morgenstern, even if they look nearly identical._ _

__The nightmares don’t stop, and Daniel’s not sure if they ever will. It does get easier to deal with them though. Afterall he has a parent who loves him, and comforts him when he needs it. It makes all the difference when the nightmares get particularly bad, but when they do, he can be sure that someone will be there, with a hug, and comforting words._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POqEVwROEQs


	5. Chapter 5

When Daniel is 15, he gives Ragnor a potted flower for father’s day. His reasoning is “Dad has too many ties, it would hardly be worth it to get another one!” Besides, he was never a fan of making cards, art was never his strong suite.


	6. Chapter 6

Dad | draft | NY is strange. Seriously someone graffitied over a hotel sign to translate to Hotel of the Dead.

Dad | draft | Worldwide cult, I swear, more of the people with weird tattoos.

Dad | draft | I know you lived here for a while, have you ever heard of the club Pandemonium?

Dad | draft | I can’t wait to be home, seriously, my friends are not people I want to live with, even temporarily. In a hotel room.

Dad | draft | Weird cultist people gave me strange looks today. Some of them resemble the people from my nightmares.

Dad | text | There’s a weird spider creature and I’m scared, although I might be going mad. I’m so happy I’ll be home tomorrow, I love you 


	7. Chapter 7

Daniel had never slept easily, his rest disturbed by visions that rose up from the past life that he had so narrowly escaped. Guilt and mirror-image mirages of a monster that wore his face, and lived in his skin. So when the gangly teenager fell asleep on the couch, one arm trailed onto the floor, Ragnor wasn’t surprised to hear his muttering into the pillows a short while later. 

With a resigned sigh, Ragnor slid the marker into his books, and set it on the side table. Even magic could only keep the nightmares at bay for so long, and his son had proved remarkably resilient against dreamless sleep charms. In the end, they were a bandaid solution for a problem that had no comfortable answer.

Reaching over, Ragnor gave Daniel’s shoulder a brisk shake, the boy waking with a tense jolt. “Dad…?” He muttered blearily, still half lost in the nightmare that had gripped him. 

“Brush your teeth. If you sleep on the couch you’re going to be exhausted in the morning.” He said mildly, picking his book back up. A few more years, he thought, and Daniel would look almost as old as Ragnor did now. As he had then. But that day was not today.

“And no staying up all night with a book, you have school in the morning.”


	8. Chapter 8

15\. Your muse is being kept hostage and mine has just rescued them.

“Shh!” Ragnor’s voice stirred the silence as he waved a hand at the heavy, warded lock on the prison cell. For a moment there was a sound like popcorn, and a defensive crackle of sickly orange light, before the tumblers groaned and crunched into place.

Valentine would answer for this, he swore to himself. They should never have believed he was dead– not until they had the body, in ashes, in a damned jar.

Striding into the cell, the warlock sank to a knee, light fingers closing over his son’s sleeping mouth to muffle the sound of surprise when he jolted awake. “Shh.. It’s time to go.” 

When they got home, Ragnor knew there would be questions to answer. But when his son bolted forward, his skinny arms wrapping like a vice around his neck, he knew he had made the right decision.


End file.
